


Without a Word

by Links6



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean loses his voice and makes it everyone's problem, Fluffyfest, Gen, Hand signals because they don't know ASL, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam worries A LOT, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Silent Protagonist, Witchhunt but they're actually the good guys, and yes, but a manly hug, but doesn't, hand signals, it's a thing, military handsignals, mostly - Freeform, sick and needs a hug, the bad guys like sugarcookies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28262394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Links6/pseuds/Links6
Summary: Dean's lost his voice and is still sick, but he's still determined to go on the latest hunt. Sam is trying to keep him safe and healthy... which is not always easy, especially with a Winchester.Post episode 1x15. sick!laryngitis!Dean caring!worried!Sam
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 13





	1. Without a Word

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its related characters or themes.
> 
> AN1: This little plot bunny came to me while I had my own bout of Laryngitis – which sucked. 
> 
> AN2: This takes place a little while after 1x15 'The Benders'
> 
> AN3: The italics are basically an explanation of his gestures - just for clarity. They're not using ASL, but some of the gestures are actual military handsigns teams use when they're in combat.

Dean's been crabby since Tuesday. It's Saturday now and he's completely lost his voice. The constant coughing and hacking from his bout of bronchitis left his voice raw and raspy at first. It then escalated, as all things Dean-related usually do, to the squeaky and whispery voice. That lost its appeal around Thursday and, by law of Winchester, meant his voice had to get lost too.

Right now he's got one arms flailing angrily and glaring at his brother.

Sam, who had used a bacon and cheese burger as an excuse for consolation, looked up from his laptop, finally noticing Dean's attempt to catch his attention, "Huh, yeah?"

A frown and he gestures shaking. He motioned to his greasy burger and fries as if it were an explanation in itself. _Can you not SEE what the problem is?_

"I asked for extra salt and ketchup, don't pin this on me," Sam snapped.

A rudimentary pout followed Sam's explanation.

"I know, I know... sorry. I'll stock up when I go for dinner," Sam relented after a while. "You find anything yet?"

A shake of the head and his own croak of a sigh came as a reply. _No, thanks, unless you can whip me up a handy-dandy morphine IV._

Sam scratched his head for a moment, "Maybe we've been looking in the wrong place?" he said, turning his laptop enough so Dean could see, "Looks like we've got a local website for the weird."

The screen had a huge purple pentagram glowing, some links to spells and summoning rituals, all of it.

The next morning Sam's up and dressed while Dean's snoring like a chainsaw. Sam took a seat on his own bed, staring at his brother. Considering Sam already finished cleaning the guns, packing the bags, taking a shower... Dean must be _really_ tired to have _not_ woken up yet. Sam prodded the side of Dean's bed with his foot, "Dean, wake up."

A squeak came from Dean's bed, followed by Dean's head poking out of the blanket fort. He looked over for a moment before jumping up.

"Wait-whao... Dude, I just wanted to know if I can get you anything." Sam quickly stated, standing up too.

Either Dean was decidedly ignoring his brother, or he was _really_ determined to go along. He's tugging on jeans and a tee, his sneakers are slipped on in record time. And, the answer was apparent when Dean's eyebrows are waggling like he's just scored. _See? I'm ready for action!_

Dean suddenly snaps forward, a hoarse cough suddenly rips through his system. And it seemed that his bronchitis-episode hadn't completely receded yet. He coughs harshly a couple more times, clutching his chest.

"You okay?" Sam asked, not sure if jumping up and running over is a bit too extreme at the moment.

Dean held up the 'one minute' sign and rested his hands on his knees until he caught his breath. _One second, dude... at least until I'm sure I won't hock out my own lungs._ He finally held up a thumbs-up and looked up with a grin. _Good to go._

"You are so going to stay here." Sam snapped, grabbing his backpack from the floor.

Now, Dean's got his finger pointing to himself then at Sam, a circle in the air followed by a forwards motion. _We're both going._

"I'm just going to interview the creators of that website... nothing serious..." Sam said, his smile not as convincing as it should be.

Lost voice or not, all of Dean's other senses were fine. Including his 'lie-o-meter', and right now, it was going off like a fire alarm. It all comes from years and years of living with someone, learning their habits and give-aways.

To make his point clear, Dean jangled the Impala's keys in front of Sam before stalking out the door. _You're not going anywhere without me._

They drive in silence until they reach a stretch of uptown apartments. Manicured lawns and sprinklers. Not exactly a witch's playground.

"Katelyn Westen lives in apartment hundred and fourteen, sixth floor..." Sam looks up from their Dad's journal with a frown, "If she's really a witch... shouldn't there be some angelica or something growing here?"

Dean scanned the area before smiling to himself and walking back to Sam. His brother stood patiently by as Dean paged through the journal until he reaches the page where their father wrote down all the herbs grown for the use of the occult. He runs his finger along the list of names until he reaches ' _Wormwood_ '.

"Seriously?" Sam asked, and looked up. His brother points to the side of the building next to the ranking Ivy. The woody climbing plant was thriving in the shady spot, "huh... Good eye."

The older Winchester shrugged smugly and walked towards the building. He seemed fine, unless you discount his swaying walk, hunched shoulders, his occasional suppressed coughing. Oh yes. A picture of health.

Even the stairs up to the witch's apartment were a pain in the ass. Dean could feel his thighs burning and shaking from the exertion, his hands tingling and dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. He stopped on the landing at the fourth floor, flipping open his cell and checking the messages on his phone. He leaned on the wall, holding up the 'one minute' sign again.

The younger of the two took the time to check their gear, shoving the nine mil glock in the waistband of his jeans. He had the good graces to take his time to give his brother time to rest as he checked the ammo.

After a few minutes, Dean shoved himself away from the wall, elbowing Sam in the ribs.

Sam handed him a sawed-off, "Ready?"

A wink came as his reply. _You know it, Sammy._

Five minutes later and the pair of them were standing on the sixth floor. It's still pretty early, it being just past eight and all. Late fall in Denver, Colorado is kinda cool. Freezing, actually, and even at 2 centigrade below, it seemed as if the sky was only seconds away from cursing them with snow. It might be October, but the feeling of hands going numb because of the _cold_... yes. They hadn't planned on it being _this_ cold so early.

"You still okay, dude?" Sam looked over to Dean, and he can't help but wonder if allowing him to come along wasn't one of the _many_ things he'll regret.

Dean's got his hands withdrawn into his jacket, blowing air into the cuffs of his sleeves to help warm them up. He looked at Sam pointedly for a minute before jerking his head to the direction of the apartment. _Mind your own damn business._

"If you don't feel okay, you should let me know now... you know what dad said about hunting when you're sick," Sam said and tugged on Dean's elbow, "We can always come back later... she's not going anywhere."

Dean frowned darkly and opened his mouth but all that came out was a squeaky whisper. And, of course, that didn't help things. He's got gesturing wildly with both his hands now. He cups his hand, motions a ripping action, punches his fist in the air and whirls it around for a moment. _I'm going to rip off you-_

Sam turns pink and frowned deeply, "It's not _my_ fault your immune system's gone to hell, " and couldn't help but add a "If you actually added some salad to your four pounds of grease burgers, maybe you'll be able to fight off more than just blocked arteries."

His brother suppressed another cough and flipped him the bird. _Bitch._

" _Jerk",_ followed a roll of Sammy's eyes.

They made their way down the hallway, silently checking each door for any other signs. 110, 112... They stop in front of hundred and fourteen, both crouching on either side.

A nod in unison and Sam knocks on the door, "Ms Westen, we've got reports of gas leakage in this floor... would you mind if we came in for a spot check?" he asked formally.

No reply.

Dean readies his sawed-off and stands up. He holds one hand above his head for a second. _Cover me._

Sam nods and got his safety pin and wrench to the lock. He fiddles with the lock, swearing several times as the lock springs back into place. He finally maneuvers the lock open and pulled on the handle. He pushes the door open and Dean moves into the apartment, scans the area. Sam followed up and cleared the right.

Dean motioned to the right and headed towards the left.

The whole apartment was searched through but nothing was found. Katelyn Westen looked like a normal, twenty-six year old woman. They meet up in the kitchen.

"Place is clean... nothing out of the ordinary," Sam said with a frown, still scanning the room warily.

It isn't until Dean walked over to the fridge and checked out the contents when he noticed it. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the drawers next to the sink. He kicked the fridge closed and opened up the first drawer. Only, the drawer didn't open... instead, all four fake drawers were a cover for a single slide cabinet. He pulled it out until the rollers stopped. And there it all was. Rows and rows of herbs, dried bones, threads...

"Are you turning into Daredevil?" Sam joked, checking out the contents of the cabinet.

Dean's waggling his eyebrows again and straightened up, cringing as his back protests.

Sam sighed after a few minutes, "We'll have to come back later... "


	2. Silence

They stopped by the closest diner, deciding to get some lunch before going back to the motel. The diner itself was trying so hard to be modern that it mostly came off as tacky. Super-sleek aluminium everything _._

The pair grab a booth by the window, a waiter came up to the table a few minutes later. Oh yes, the two-day old shave and messy apron was _totally_ appetizing. Sam's got a twitch in his eye, but it doesn't seem like Dean even noticed the guy. They order their lunch and finally settle.

"You alright?" Sam asked, giving Dean a one-over mid scroll of his inbox messages.

Dean's got his forehead in his palm, wincing each time he tries to swallow. He holds up a thumbs-up, but even his hand's trembling.

Their lunch arrives and Dean doesn't even touch his sandwich. He's only nursing his coffee, taking small girly sips. And even _he_ knows Sam with his super freaky little brother optics can see it. He takes off his jacket after a few minutes, huffing in frustration.

"You hot?" Sam asked incredulously.

After draping his leather jacket he looked back at Sam mocking an air kiss. He takes another sip of the coffee, but suddenly snaps forwards, coughing uncontrollably.

Sam, mouthful of chicken sandwich, stared at his brother for a few seconds. He stands up unsurely, "Uh... dude...?"

Dean's got his head ducked sideways, trying his best to suppress the sputtering cough.

Sam walked over to his side and slightly started clapping his brother on his back. He can't help but notice the heat radiating through Dean's shirt. _'He's got a fever too?',_ he hands his coffee to his brother, "Drink this..."

After a few quick gulps and a last reverberating cough, Dean sat up.

"You look like hell... " Sam quips, chuckling in relief. "I think we should get going."

It takes them ten minutes to finally clear out, take out coffee in hand. Sam sneaks the Impala's keys from Dean's jacket as he passes Dean on the way to Metallicar.

"Can I drive?" Sam asked politely, passing the passenger side to the driver's side.

Dean sends him a warning glare. And the eyebrow quirk. _You're pushing your luck._

"Don't look at me like that, you're sick... " Sam said and started ushering Dean to the passenger seat, "That was a courtesy question... I'm driving."

The older Winchester wipes at his forehead in frustration, he clears his throat and winches again as the small action sends a flash of pain right through his system. He pats down his jacket for the keys and suddenly freezes. He looked up.

"Got 'em," Sam said and couldn't help but grin as he finally got to drive.

The entire drive back to the motel has Dean fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat. And when he's not looking like he's got ants in his pants, he's glaring at Sam. _Oh, you just wait until I'm back to normal. I'm going to whoop your sorry ass._

They shove past each other to get inside the motel room.

"You should take some aspirin," Sam said, rummaging in his duffle for the tablets, "We don't need you spiking the fever when we're out tonight."

Dean doesn't even bother to answer his brother, he only toes off his boots and flips onto the bed closest to the door. _Make me, bitch._

Finally emerging out of his bag, Sam tosses the tablet-pack towards his brother.

Well... fact that Dean's reaction time was so slow that the pack hit Dean right on the nose was proof enough that he was _really sick._

The older brother snapped upright and started mouthing the first thing that popped into his mind, "WHAT THE F-"... _fudge._ It was the first time since he lost his voice that he _really_ missed being able to talk. Or swear. Or yell. Or burp.

"Sorry... uh... See? You are sick?" Sam quickly tried to cover it up but ended up chuckling instead.

Dean tossed the packet back at Sam... who threw it back...

"What, are you four years-old?" Sam snapped crankily, "Stop being such a pain!"

For a moment it looked like Dean might actually consider it, that is, until he threw the packet somewhere over his shoulder with a huff.

Sam sighed heavily and walked over and picked it up. "Just take them..." he said. He shoved Dean's bed to get his brother to react.

And react Dean did, too much. He kicked Sam in the hip. And Sam ended up shoving Dean's legs off the bed. ... and a second later they couldn't figure out how in the hell they ended up wrestling on the floor.

Once Sam got Dean pinned to the floor, he narrowed his eyes, "If I can beat you this easily, think of what a witch will do?" he said, "Remember what happened in Pasadena? ... what if that happens again?"

The second hunt Sam was allowed to join on was in Pasadena, California. In the end, the witch they were hunting had cursed the youngest Winchester and after vanquishing her, the Winchesters had to high-tail it back to Missouri Mosely for a cure.

The older Winchester could still clearly remember the helpless feeling as Sam's pulse got weaker and weaker with every mile. How hard he tried to keep him awake and positive. _Don't worry, Sammy... we're almost there... and then we'll take a week off and we'll go watch a movie... yeah, any movie you want!_ It was when Sam started to cough up blood when Dean's positive attitude suddenly turned pessimistic and desperate. That was the first time he can remember that he was really and truly afraid.

Dean huffed angrily but didn't struggle further. _Sneaky little brothers... psh..._

Sam stands up and pulls Dean up without a word. He walks off and returns with a glass of water and a wet towel, "Here..." he said and handed Dean the items. He picked up the fallen pain-killer container and hands it over. He doesn't stick around and decides that _now_ would be the best time for a shower, aka. Leave now and save Dean some unnecessary embarrassment.

Forty minutes when Sam emerges from the shower with his sweats on, he smiled in relief when he spotted his brother. His brother's mouth was slightly open and snoring, the towel on his forehead and the glass of water half-empty.


End file.
